Laura clenched her jaw tight in an attempt to stop the desperate sob escaping her throat. Her body hurt. Her head ached. She needed to be sick. To fall apart. The constant beep, beep, beep in her ears wouldn’t leave her alone.
Her son sat on her lap, playing cars on the table. He wore his cartoon pyjamas adorably askew, the buttons out of place. Mikey insisted on doing them himself. They’re allowed to be cute at three, aren’t they?
Like the time he wore his undies over his shorts for a week because he’d made the mistake once at daycare and the kids had picked on him, so his teacher had told everyone he was a trendsetter.
None of the kids had had any idea what that meant, but her praise had given him some serious cred in the pony room. Made him feel good about himself, rather than silly. Mrs Mayes was a lovely teacher.
She breathed in the sweet scent of his Minions shampoo as he twisted around to snuggle that beautiful baby face into her neck, still clutching his red and yellow Matchbox cars in his tiny hands.
He was tired, needed a nap. But he never slept well without Goatee, his favourite stuffed brown goat. And Goatee wasn’t here.
She swallowed another sob, bit down hard on her lip. It wasn’t fair, this wasn’t his fault.
‘Mummy, why are those men meanies?’
She struggled to find her voice, make it normal. ‘They’re mad, baby.’
‘You had tears.’ He drew a line down her cheek with his finger.
‘If I was big I would protect you. Like Superman.’
Her soul shattered. She was big and she couldn’t protect him.
‘They didn’t hurt me. Not really.’
‘They’re mad at Daddy.’
‘Yeah, at Daddy.’
‘I’m hungry. I miss Daddy.’
Her own stomach churned, but not with hunger. ‘If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?’
‘Ice cream!’
She pressed her lips to the top of his head and cuddled him close, ignoring the pain every movement his small body caused her broken one.
‘Double scoop?’
‘Yeah!’ he said and bounced on her lap. ‘Ice cream forever! Can we have some soon?’
Her eyes welled again. This time there was no stopping the tears from sliding down her cheeks. ‘I hope so, baby. I hope we can have ice cream. All the ice cream ever.’
‘It’s hot, Mummy.’ He shifted on her lap and tried to get more comfortable, his forehead dotted with sweat. ‘Do you think we can go soon?’
The hope in his voice was too much. Just too much…
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